


drown • 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛

by Jokinglyfunny



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartburn, Hope, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Pain, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Therapy, crippling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokinglyfunny/pseuds/Jokinglyfunny
Summary: drown/draʊn/•submerge or flood (an area)."𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥";it's something Jongin has been feeling lately._______________________"Fuck off, I'm not crazy."Chanyeol looks at the male, wiping the blood off his lips.Jongin felt his thighs burn.(12220 words)
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongin | Kai, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Jongin | Kai, Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun, Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin | Kai/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	drown • 𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛

_ j o n g i n _

Three days. Three days, his head has been ringing. A numbing pain has become apparent to him, haunting him recently. Or maybe it had started much before that, he didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

It's not as if he didn't have a great life. He had friends, he had money, he had fans. Nowadays, however, they don't seem to matter. To him, at least. 

Not anymore.

His thoughts are cut off by the loud sound of Chanyeol's laugh. Bright white teeth on display, hands brought up and down as he slaps Baekhyun playfully. He seemed happier nowadays, Jongin noted. Since Chanyeol had created Studio NNG, the rapper was in a better headspace than normal.

How Jongin envied that.

Jongin was in nothing but rollercoasters the past couple months. He had considered therapy but he knew it would spark deep conversations with his bandmates. That was the last thing he wanted.

There was no exact reason as to why Jongin was feeling this type of way. He felt empty, if that's any way to call it.

Jongin was walking on cloud nine. Fame, money, talent, he had- has -all of it. Just as he found solace in the sky, he had plummeted down into the sea, beneath the ground, deeper than he’s ever been. 

No warning, no red light. An instant kill.

Maybe it’s because he had everything that he wanted nothing more. Nothing more for himself, nothing more from others. Maybe he had lost the spark in life, happiness. 

Happiness. The word felt foreign to him. He used to feel it almost everyday. Doing simple things like dancing, hanging out with friends, drinking coffee every morning.

Jongin had gained, but lost too much.

Somewhere along the lines he had lost his closest friends. He had lost the will to dance, feeling burnt out at every movement. He had lost the will to get out of bed every morning, always wondering  _ what was the point? _

And just like now, he was making excuses. Jongin knew very well. He knew the reasons for this dark pit surrounding his life.

Jongin knew he had lost himself to fame. He knew that his emptiness had his own stupidity to blame. Making his schedules an excuse to not meet up with his family, losing contact with his old schoolmates to make new ones that were high end celebrities. He found no reason to put in effort into the people that mattered to him, thinking they would stay by him forever.

Oh, how  _ fucking  _ stupid that was.

And now he grows apart from the only people who knew Jongin for who he truly was.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon tapped his shoulder. “Could you pass me my bag?” He points to a black duffle beside Jongin, taking a large gulp of water from his tumbler.

The leader’s face was dripping with sweat, tiredness evident on his features from the rough choreography of their song. Jongin passed said bag to the brunette, a small ‘ _ thanks’ _ whispered in the process.

“Not gonna practice?” Jongdae plops onto the couch beside him, where Junmyeon’s bag was. “The release is in a couple of days.”

In the background someone scoffed. “Heh, Jongin probably wouldn’t even drip sweat with a choreo like this, Chanyeol howeverrrr,” Baekhyun says jokingly.

Mostly everyone in the group were panting from the end of their dance session. Only Chanyeol and Jongin were the ones who didn’t join the group in practicing.

In the corner, Chanyeol was on his laptop, preparing for the release of Studio NNG’s next video. He looks at the group with wide eyes at the mention of his name.

“Chanyeol, on the other hand, is gonna diiiieeeee,” Baekhyun drags out his sentence, mocking Chanyeol who glares at him.

“Sorry, the rich has more work,” Chanyeol sticks his tongue out. Junmyeon raises a brow at the younger member. “Don’t worry bro, I will be practicing tonight.”

“Alright, just make sure you don’t overdo it, you’re not as bad as people say, you know? Baekhyun is just being mean,” Junmyeon smiles at Chanyeol, softly knocking Baekhyun’s head with the back of his hand.

Their usual banter carries on as they wait for their manager to call the rest of the day off. Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae running around their studio, bumping their heads to the loud beat of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, Kyungsoo occasionally getting mad at the elders for knocking over precious equipment, Junmyeon in the corner chatting up with Minseok, who’s holding a phone on skype with Yixing.

Jongin just sits back onto the beige couch in the corner he’s recently been sticking to these months, looking at nothing in particular.

That is, until someone obstructs his view and invades the empty spots beside Jongin.

“Yo, why you looking down, bro?”

“Who the fuck you calling bro, bro?” Jongin rebuts, slightly irritated. He didn’t want to speak at all right now.

Sehun smiles cheekily, knowing well he shouldn’t talk informally with Jongin, who’s older than him.

“Chill, dude,” Sehun pouts. “We’re all friends here.”

Jongin rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore Sehun and picks up his phone, unlocking it. "Yeah. Friends."

Sehun looked at Jongin, furrowing his brows. "What's with that tone?" He asks. "Are you saying that we aren't?"

Jongin takes a deep breath, and sighs. "Sorry, I'm just a bit tired, my bad."

Sehun relaxes. He looks at Jongin understandingly and with a softer look. He taps Jongin on the shoulder. "Hey, if you're down, you can always rely on us," he smiles. "Or me, I can keep it a secret from the others, we're the same age gang after all," Sehun giggles.

Jongin puts his phone down, looking slightly happier. He pats the younger's head in a silent thanks. 

Their manager enters the room then and there, announcing their work for the day is done. With gleeful responses, the group heads to their respective cars, Jongin walking in the back.

Jongin stares at Sehun's back, heart becoming heavier and heavier. He feels sorry for him. He can't tell anyone about his troubles.

He doesn't have the right to.

_________________________________

  
  


"Hey, sis," Jongin holds the phone to his ear. Lying back on his bed, he opens his laptop, scrolling through nothing in particular.

_ "Jongin, you have got to get back home sometime. Raeon misses you,"  _ his sister's soft voice resonates, the warmth of it melting Jongin from within.

"I-.." Jongin smiles a little, thinking about his niece and nephew. They must have grown a lot by now, it's been a long time since he saw them. "Yea.. I'll come over someday." He loves playing with the two cheeky brats. The first time Jongin’s sister gave birth to the twins, they looked like little naked mole rats. Now, they’ve grown into such beautiful babies. Jongin’s cheeks started to hurt from smiling, thinking about them.

_ "I don't want that boy here,"  _ in a distance, Jongin could tell, was his mother's voice.  _ "Mom!"  _ Jungah exclaims, appalled at what her mother was saying to her own son.

Jongin purses his lips.

_ “He couldn’t even call for Christmas or his dad’s birthday,”  _ his mom argues with his sister. “ _ If he can’t appreciate this family I won’t allow him in this house,”  _ he could hear his sister retorting back at their mom. _ “Mom,”  _ she shout-whispered. Jongin could hear the hushed argument, with his sister attempting to defend Jongin from his mother’s remarks.

Jongin heard shifting in the phone’s mic, indicating she was walking from something. “ _ Nini, it’s alright, okay? _ ” Her voice turns back at her younger brother. “ _ We know you have rough schedules, okay, I’ll call you back for Raeon’s birthday, bye!” _

Before Jongin could even tell her goodbye, the phone shuts off in multiple beeps. Silently, he puts down the phone on the bed beside him.

Jongin swallows down hard, the feeling of rejection from his own mother coursing through his veins and up his skull.

He feels the familiar feeling of his throat contracting, choking at every breath. No. He refuses to cry. Jongin had brought this upon himself and it was time to reap what he had sewn. 

But human emotion gets the better of him. He brings his knees up to his chest, hugging it tightly, as he lets out an unsightly sob, but he holds back the tears.

Had he deserved it truly? He didn’t know. If Jongin were any younger, he would’ve started screaming into his pillow, mumbling unethical nonsense about how the world was conspiring against him, how unfair it was to him.

A few mistakes, a few nights, was there any fault in that? Was there any fault in him for being wrong a few times?

Why was this his life? Why did he have to suffer through this numbness when he did nothing so wrong to deserve it?

Just as Jongin wanted to mend his mistakes, it bites back at him with double the harshness.

Maybe he does deserve it.

_________________________________

  
  


Dizzy. Jongin felt dizzy.

A full night of crying, a full night of liquor. Jongin felt dizzy.

“Ah, he’s awake.”

Jongin snapped out of his haze, gazing at the two above him with wide eyes.

Jongdae looks down at him with a cat’s grin, while Junmyeon merely sighed.

“We have a schedule today, Jongin,” Junmyeon says disappointedly. “How are you supposed to record like this?” The elder gestured to the empty bottles and cans littered around the bronze man’s bed.

Jongin looked at the two, confused. His head was pounding, and was in no mood to read between the lines. Groaning, he sits up, the action causing his head to spin more.

“What the fuck? What time is it?” Jongin holds his palm up to his head, scratching it violently.

“Don’t cuss. It’s 12,” Junmyeon gazes at the watch on his wrist. Jongin notices the both were dressed up for rehearsals. Both in their sport shorts, Junmyeon in a muscle tee with a jacket in hand, while Jongdae was sporting a thin beige hoodie and a baseball cap.

While Jongin on the other hand, looks down. Shirtless.

“Which means you have,” Jongdae looks at his empty wrist playfully. “Nada time to get ready,” he gives Jongin a piercing laugh, mimicking a hyena, in an attempt to ridicule the younger.

"Shut the fuck up," Jongin scowled. He turns back to Junmyeon. "Sorry, dude. Y'all go ahead without me, I'll be there behind you."

Junmyeon nodded, a frown evident on his stressed face. "Okay. Don't take too long, though. Or the manager will kill all of us."

Jongin gave him a lazy thumbs up, the two getting up to leave the younger to his own devices.

Jongin huffed as they left, falling back into his pillow, head still thumping. He hears shuffling in the hallway in front of his room, probably the members heading towards the car.

He places his arm on his face. 

“Jongin.”

A voice startles him as he instinctively looks towards the door. 

“If anything is really wrong, you’ll tell us, right?” Jongdae asks softly with an understanding look.

Heart running a million miles an hour, his headache seemed to have disappeared as it is replaced by a thousand thoughts of worry. Had Jongdae notice he wasn’t alright? Jongin nods frantically, baffled at the action. Jongdae, of all people.

Jongdae seems to take that as an answer and leaves completely.

Jongin relaxes a bit, heart feeling slightly warmer compared to yesterday. He leans back into his pillow, relishing in its comfort.

He can’t cry. He can’t cry.

He doesn’t deserve to.

In an attempt to stop the tears from spilling out, he shuts his eyes close. Darkness gradually surrounds him as he creeps into deep slumber.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jongin snaps awake as he hears his ringtone coming from his nightstand. He picks up the phone in a haze, gasping slightly as he reads its contents.

_ Missed calls: Junmyeonnie (18), Chanyeollie (3), Jongdaedae (2), Sehunnie (7), Minseokkie (2). _

“Shit,” he pauses, pushing the sheets off of him. Looking at the time that read 3:36, he panics even more. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,  _ fuck.” _

He dials Sehun’s number, the person least likely to shout at him, running his fingers through his oily hair. The phone’s beeps seemingly mocks him as he waits for the younger to pick it up.

_ “Jongin?” _ Sehun picks up, and answers unsurely.

“Sehun,” Jongin responds. “Sehun, I’ll be there, tell them I-”

_ “Don’t bother,” _ Jongin’s sentence is cut short by a voice in the background.

“Minseok, I-”

_ “No, Jongin, practice is over, we got our share of the manager’s anger for not bringing you with us, so don’t bother,” _ Minseok’s voice runs ice cold through the speaker, Sehun obviously struck by the elder’s harshness as well.

Jongin bites his lips, tears threatening to come out. Again. It was always his fault. He was the fuck-up and he had no one to blame but himself. He hadn’t even memorised the choreography, for god's sake. He shouldn’t have drank so much last night, he shouldn’t have called his mother. And now his friends were the ones getting the brunt of his foolishness.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says so soft, he could barely hear himself. “I’m so sorry, I will-” the line gets shut off, every beep making him cringe in himself even more.

“GODDAMNIT!” Jongin hauls his phone to the other side of the room, a loud thump created from the impact, no doubt cracking his phone’s screen, maybe even destroying it entirely. He lets out a piercing scream as he falls to his knees.

Jongin knocks his head not once, but twice with his fist in anger. 

He slumps, his head hitting the floor harshly with him still on his knees. But he still refuses to cry. He refuses.

Gritting his teeth, pulling his hair, he does whatever so the tears don’t come out.

Jongin shouts and shouts out words of profanity. At his own stupidity, at his own actions, for losing the trust of the only people that believed in him. Believed he was worth  _ anything,  _ anymore.

His cheeks are burning hot from embarrassment. Jongin gets up and destroys whatever he could see. He throws his lamp off his nightstand, kicking his bed, destroying his sheets, knocking over his desk, breaking his wardrobe door.

By the end of his fit, he gathers himself up in his bathroom, gazing at the mirror with bloodshot eyes. Jongin brings up his fist to destroy his reflection, but immediately pulls it down as he regains his senses.

Jongin holds both his palms to his head, gripping its sides, as he sinks down onto his floor. Disgusting. Finding the bathroom floor which he hasn’t cleaned in weeks disgusting, he shoots up and sits on the side of his bathtub instead.

The bronze man looks at the cabinet below the mirror and finds it enticing.

Gazing at it with his now hollow eyes, he felt his wrist burn.

That was his first step into the water.

________________________________

  
  


"Uncle!" Raeon jumps into Jongin's arms as Jongin holds them out for him.

"How's my baby boy?" Jongin coos, pinching his nephew's cheek. He holds the boy up as he looks at his sister, who was holding Rahee.

"So glad you could make it," his sister smiles at her brother, Rahee begging his mother to let her go. Jungah had somehow convinced their mother to let Jongin come to Raeon's birthday party.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Jongin looks at Raeon as he says that, booping his nose lightly, to which the child giggled.

"Come on in!" The eldest exclaims, pulling her brother's hand to enter the house.

Jongin gulped in fear as he takes his shoe off. He sees a familiar dining room decorated in red balloons and flags. A big number 3 is pasted on the wall, an untouched birthday cake and presents on the table under it.

A scream cuts his thoughts off, his head snapping in the direction of it. Jongin was relieved to see Raeon just being tickled by his father. He spots his mother smiling fondly at her grandson.

Jongin stares at her. His mom catches his glimpse, and her face turns into something stoic then angry. Luckily, she didn't say anything, only looking back at Raeon. Jongin purses his lips and just bows his head apologetically at her. Not caring to check if she really was looking or not.

  
  
  
  
  


"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Raeon! Happy birthday to you!~" Raeon blows out the candles on the cake as the crowd of family cheers him on.

The birthday party was pretty much uneventful for Jongin. He sat at the back as the rest chattered and laughed. It was serene, to say the least.

“Has anyone seen Mr. Kim?” Someone who Jongin barely recognised catches his attention. Multiple chains of ‘no’s’ and ‘maybe he’s running late’s’ are voiced. Caught up in the fuss of the children wanting to eat the cake faster, and with endless gossip, it seemed like Mr. Kim’s presence was forgotten altogether. Everyone realises this, a worrying feeling emitting in the hallways.

Jongin’s mother laughed at that. “He’s out to buy fireworks, he’ll be back soon,” she assured Raeon’s playmates’ parents.

Furrowing his brows, Jongin seemed more alarmed. A pit feeling in his gut gathering in worry for his father. The man was in no condition to be wandering around anywhere alone. With the multiple bouts of strokes and heart attacks he's been having the past few years, he had grown accustomed to staying at home 24/7. Even if he did drive out of the house, it would only be to get groceries and whatnot, and that wouldn’t take more than half an hour.

As if the stars aligned and fate was predetermined, a phone rang. The household went silent except for the children. Raeon and his playmates were still running along the halls, some demanding for more cake, some crying.

“Mom, it’s your phone,” Jongin says, a reflex from seeing his mother’s phone lying on the table, with its screen lighting up and blaring an incessant sound. He winces when he sees his mom glare at him, as if speaking to her was a household rule broken. Not that Jongin blamed her. Prior to him realizing his misconducts, Jongin had not spoken to her or anyone in his family in that matter for about nine months. Shit, he’s a fucking fuck up.

“Hello,” Jungah, who was the closest to the phone answered.

_ “Hello, is this Kim household?” _ A woman’s voice softly replied. 

“Yes, may I ask who is speaking?”

_ “I am nurse Songji from Gangnam Severance hospital… may I ask if you are related to Kim Junggi? This was his primary emergency number,”  _ the woman pronounced each syllable slowly.

“Yes, he’s my dad,” Jungah gazes worriedly at Jongin, eyes shaking. Not wanting to take the call alone, she puts in on speaker. “Did something happened to him?”

_ “Yes… please stay calm. He was involved in a major car accident about 20 minutes ago. It was instant death. I am so sorry for your loss. I know it may be hard, but his body is currently at……” _

Jongin couldn’t hear anymore. He didn’t want to hear anymore. All sounds gradually flush out from his mind as he sees his mother fall to her knees, hand on her mouth. His sister sobs, face red. The people in the room chatter amongst themselves, some helping his mother up, some crying.

Jongin hadn’t seen his father in almost a year. And now he’s gone. When Jongin became famous, he had promised his dad a house. A house, and a car. That he would send him money every month, so he and his mom could fly to Bali and spent nights there. Jongin had given his father every bit of hope, yet he could not even make it to his birthday last year. Some son, he is. Some celebrity.

Jongin felt a deadly sting to his face. His vision blurry was in a haze, but it could make out his mother’s plump cheeks and grey hair, her face hot with anger, as her palm is brought up again to slap her son’s face.

The face that was worth billions. The face that had won over vogue, gucci, designer brands he could barely pronounce. 

But what was the point of it now? If it could get rid of that disgusted look on his mother’s face right now, he would gladly tear out this face of his.

If only he didn’t have this face.

_________________________________

  
  


“Here,” Sehun passes him an ice pack.

Jongin gladly accepts it and presses it to his bruised cheek. After Jongin’s mother kicked him out of the house, she had denied Jongin the access of even seeing his father’s dead body in the hospital. With his tail between his legs, Jongin had no choice but to go back home.

And as much as embarrassment, sadness, and unfairness was filling his gut, he was also grateful that only Sehun was at the dorm. He hadn’t spoken to the others in about a week. It was mostly him avoiding the members but they made it easy for him.

“You must feel like shit,” Sehun chuckles.

“You think this shit’s funny?” Jongin was already agitated from everything that’s happened today. While he does feel bad on taking it out on the younger, he feels so much better at projecting his anger at someone.

Sehun snaps his mouth shut and looked sheepish at Jongin’s comment. “I’m sorry..” Sehun whispers.

“N-no. Sorry it’s my fault,” great going, Jong. “It’s just…”

Sehun smiles. “It’s fine, I understand,” he replies softly. “Oh! I bought cream puffs the other day, you want some?” 

Jongin knew what a Sehun was doing. He was trying to distract Jongin. And Jongin was so, so grateful.

Jongin gazes apologetically at the younger who headed to the kitchen for the cream puffs. 

Sehun had only come out to the group as gay a few months ago. While all of them were supportive, Jongin couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. For some reason, every time Sehun did something nice to Jongin, it automatically translated to Sehun liking Jongin. Maybe it’s egotistical for him to feel this way, but it’s a well known fact that Jongin is a jerk anyways. 

Maybe that’s why Jongin couldn’t help but always make the younger feel like shit.

Wondering what was taking the younger so long, Jongin shoots up and walks to the kitchen.

“Sehu-” Jongin stops as he sees the youngest leaning against the counter, a box of cream puffs in his hand, the other hand coming up to wipe tears from his eyes.

He stands there quietly as he witnesses Sehun bawl his eyes out.

“Sehun.. what’s the matter?” Jongin holds out his hand to pat the younger’s back.

“I- I’m sorry.. I-it must be hard for you.. especially with the fights going on with the group.. and now..” he sobs. “Now, your father had to..”

Jongin bites his lips, anger pooling in his fists. He didn’t want to be pitied. Sehun knew nothing.

“Jongin.. you’re not a bad person.”

Suddenly, Jongin relaxes. The words he’s been waiting to hear for so long just had to come from the person he’s been bullying this entire time.

Sehun sobs, feeling overwhelmed. Jongin grits his teeth as he pulls him close in a hug.

_ Sehun. I’m so sorry. Sorry for hurting you. For constantly rejecting you as a friend, even when you’ve tried so hard to keep me in your life. Sorry for making you my shield so the rest won’t be mad at me. Everyday I feel sad, numb and empty all at the same time. I wish you knew. I wish I was brave enough to tell you. _

The words won’t come out. No matter how hard he tries, his pride gets in his way. Every single time.

_________________________________

  
  


“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Jungah says exasperatedly. Her face was blotched and red, eyes swollen from the amount of crying she’s had for the last few days. “Mom isn’t here. I somehow convinced the nurse to get you off the blacklist.”

Jongin tosses her a lopped smile, in a silent thanks. He enters the room only to see his dad’s body was covered in a white silk duvet, face and all. Jongin’s face is expressionless and stoic as he makes his way beside the bed.

“He had a seizure while he was driving, ran right into a pole,” she sighed shakily.

“Not gonna take him back home?” Jongin asks, heart heavy.

“No,” his sister croaks. “We’re gonna bring him straight to the cremation center. Mom is pretty big on the feng shui of it all.”

Jongin gulped. He reaches out to unfold the white silk from his father’s face. It was pale, and inhuman like. Oddly enough, he didn’t have wrinkles. His lips were blue, and his cheeks were flaky. 

The person who carried Jongin on his back every time he went to kindergarten, the person who fed him, the person who sang lullabies to him when he had nightmares, the person who supported Jongin in everything that he did. Dead. Gone.

Staring at it blankly, Jongin didn’t know what to feel. He felt horrible, don’t get him wrong. But the months of him feeling empty has resulted in Jongin himself incapable of providing a humane reaction to anything anymore. It was messed up, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to get the tears to come out anymore.

“Jongin,” his sister said. “You… don’t seem.. disturbed,” she continues in a voice Jongin could perfectly pinpoint as judgemental. “Or sad.”

This was exactly what Jongin was worried about; people thinking he wasn’t mourning just because he’s not sobbing on the floor or having a mental breakdown in front of them. It’s what his mother had thought happened and now Jungah. He’s just not good at expressing himself.

Jongin groaned. “Jungah,” he shut his eyes. “Jungah, don’t do this now,” he bring both hands to hold his head. “Not now, please.”

“I’m sorry!” She puts up both her arms in defence. “I’m sorry, it’s just. I know you’re sad, as well. It’s just, we can’t see it, Jongin. You can’t expect us to know what you’re feeling when you’re putting a face like  _ that _ in front of our dad’s dead bod-”

Jongin puts the duvet up on his father’s face, and proceeds to storm out of the room. He’s had enough of people’s condescending attitude towards Jongin’s actions.

“Jongin!” He hears Jungah call out to him.

Jongin takes out his car keys as he heads towards the exit, a frown etched upon his face in frustration.

_______________________________

  
  


"Hey Jongin," Junmyeon craned his head backwards as he was seated on the black leather couch, arms sprawled on his sides.

Jongin pulls off his shoe lace, hiccuping slightly, face flushed.

"Are you..  _ drunk _ ?" Jongdae asks. The members seemed to have been in a meeting of some sort in the living room.

They were probably having a discussion on their newest comeback that Jongin wasn't invited t- oh no. He  _ was  _ told that they would have one. Shit, he forgot.

Fuck, how can one man make so many mistakes?

Oddly enough, the boys didn't seem mad at him.

"We just started, you wanna join?" Minseok ushered him towards the couch.

“N-no,” Jongin hiccups embarrassingly. He tries to make his way past the living room, to the hallway with the stairs connecting to their bedrooms. “Need… sleeeep,” he slurs.

“Oh my god, he’s  _ drunk _ ,” Jongdae inputs.

Junmyeon rolls his eyes at Jongdae and stands up to hold Jongin straight. “Are you okay?” He grips the younger’s waist in a side hug.

Jongin nods, not wanting to be held by anyone at the moment. He shrugs off the elders' hands.

“Are you drunk because of your dad?” Baekhyun asks loudly but with a tone that screams pity. And Jongin didn’t like to be pitied. 

“ _ Baekhyun, _ ” Minseok glares at the blonde, as if what he had just said was a scandal all in all.

“How do you kn-” Jongin caught a glance at a sheepish looking Sehun, who obviously ratted his situation out to the people Jongin didn’t want to tell for this very reason. Pity. He knew the members would pity him. “ _ You,” _ he points a finger at the younger, all feelings magnified by alcohol.

Jongin shakes his head in disgust as he moves back and tries to get to his room, just wanting to get out of there. 

“Jongin look, you’re drunk-” Junmyeon grabs Jongin’s wrist.

“I am  _ not _ drunk!” He screams at the elder. “You!” Jongin pointed his finger at Sehun.

“Yes, you  _ are _ !” Junmyeon shouts back. “You’re  _ always _ drunk. Whenever we see you it’s either you’re drunk or hungover or fucking  _ shouting _ at someone!” He continues, obviously agitated. Junmyeon never cusses.

“It’s not healthy, Jongin,” Chanyeol agrees with Junmyeon, standing up to calm the group's leader down.

“I don’t  _ want  _ to hear health from  _ you _ ,” Jongin sneers at Chanyeol, who looked confused. “You fucking just  _ love _ to play the emo depressed boy, don’t you? Crying on camera like some princess every time you get the chance, thinking people will coddle you? Advocating your petty ideals as an artist just to get some pity points? Creating music because-” 

“Jongin, stop it,” Kyungsoo’s eyes pans from Chanyeol and Jongin in fear that something might happen. 

Jongin signs quotation marks with his fingers. “‘You make music to distract yourself from the bad things in life’-” Jongin hiccups. “Well, stop it. It’s fucking cringy, no one will pity yo-”

“You’re drunk,  _ dude _ ,” Jongdae stands up, stretching his arm out to try and stop Jongin.

“Because you’re just  _ full  _ of fucking  _ shit _ !”

Chanyeol punches Jongin straight in the jaw, a loud sound resonating in the living room. A small gasp from Sehun could be heard but no one paid any mind to it.

Jongin staggers back, footing sloppy as he just couldn’t get sober.

In the corner, there is a flower pot. One Tao had gotten the dorm for exo’s 3rd anniversary. It had their fan’s signatures and other messages from their fans to exo, and a message from Tao himself when he had left exo. Jongin picks it up and throws it at Chanyeol in rage.

It shatters at Chanyeol's feet, water and soil dirtying the carpet.

Chanyeol then staggers out of Junmyeon’s grip to run up to Jongin and pull his collar, landing punches wherever he could.

Jongin tries to shake out of his grip, fists clenching and legs kicking. The other members start screaming profanities, shouting at the two to stop fighting.

Sehun sobs as he blames himself for this mess. Kyungsoo and Minseok holds a thrashing Chanyeol back while Junmyeon, Baekhyun and Jongdae does the same to Jongin.

Jongin’s lips were busted, cheeks bruised while Chanyeol hardly sustained any damage at all with only his nose and eyebrow oozing out blood.

The members don’t stop shouting, scolding the two at every chance they get in that moment.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I'm sorry."

"Fuck off, Sehun," Jongin washes the soap off his face, turning the faucet off. "Get out of my room," he whispers tiredly, just wanting to rest for the next eternity.

"Just," Sehun calls exasperatedly. "I just wanted to help.. I thought it would be healthier for you-"

"You don’t know  _ shit _ ,” Jongin practically hisses.

Sehun bites his lips, as if he knew that was coming. “Jongin.. the guys… talked,” he mumbles almost inaudibly. “They said it would be best for you to.. go see a therapist.”

Jongin places his wet palms to hold his forehead. He was aching everywhere, he was half sober, half drunk, his head was throbbing and he just wanted everyone to piss off. “Tell them to mind their own business,” he said quietly, tone indicating he was tired.

“They say you’re depressed.”

Jongin snaps, anger pooling up in his chest. His dad died, his mom hates him, his sister judges him, he had a fight with his members, his career is flushing down the drain, why can’t anyone leave him alone? “I am  _ not  _ depressed!”

  
  


——————————————————

  
  


“You’re depressed.”

Jongin wanted to laugh at how ironic the situation was.

He had somehow let Kyungsoo convince him to go. That if he went here once and nothing’s wrong, he wouldn’t ever need to go back here. Now, as he’s seated in this ugly red ass chair, in this bland brown room, in front of this really nice looking lady, he realises he may have to come out here every week.

“Fuck me then,” Jongin groans, leaning back on the chair like a child. “What gave it away?” He says sarcastically.

The lady seems caught in between trying to answer that. “Well, first off, you’re drunk.”

Fuck, again, with the drunk. Jongin had thought it would be a good idea to come in happy to the therapist, so he had a  _ few  _ swigs, but he wouldn’t call it  _ drunk. _

“And secondly, being depressed isn’t necessarily life changing, it’s something that grows inside you. Like a black ball of miasma filing that cup with darkness,”  _ cringe cringe cringe. _ “You have clinical depression, Jongin.”

Jongin bites his lips, realising the severity of the situation. “What… do I do?”

“Jongin, you have to talk with someone. It doesn’t have to be me or a therapist. Any friend, any close person to you will do. Based on the questions you’ve just answered earlier brings me to believe that you like to keep everything in. You never bring anything out or let anyone in.”

“So?”

“So, talk. Because you’re not talking,” she looks at Jongin understandingly.

Jongin shakes his head. “It’s not easy.”

“I know it isn’t,” the lady purses her lips. “Here,” she hands him a card. A business card. “My phone number is there. You don’t have to come here if you don’t want to. But feel free to text me if you feel like it,” she smiles.

Jongin examines the lady’s face. She was plump and she wore a brown dress. Her cheeks were rosy red but not because of makeup. She had black glasses. She was.. cute, to say. Jongin looks back down at the card in his fingers.

Shinye.

Jongin gulps.

_____________________________

  
  


“So? How was it?” A happy looking Junmyeon chases after Jongin’s back.

“Fine,” Jongin grunts.

“Nothing’s wrong right?” He smiles. “I mean, you signed up for the weekly therapy session.”

Jongin groans. “Can we not do this right now? I can cancel it whenever I feel like it, you know?”

“Right right sorry,” a not so sorry looking Junmyeon bares his toothy grin at Jongin, who walks back to his room.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jongin closes the door behind him, shrugging his shirt off as he makes his way towards the toilet. He turns the hot water on and waits, staring at the water in the bathtub slowly rise.

_ “What kind of thoughts have you’ve been having lately?” _

_ “Just thinking about the group’s comeback, is all.” _

He pulls his pants down, underwear along with it.

_ “Is it necessary for you to indulge in alcoholism when you have a problem?” _

_ “It makes my head clear up.” _

Jongin puts one leg into the tub, watching it sink into the water.

_ “Does hurting others relieve your stress?” _

_ ”I’m not stressed.” _

The other leg in now.

_ “Is there anyone in particular that you dislike strongly in your circle?” _

_ “Too many.” _

He sits down.

_ “Have you’ve ever engaged in self harm before?” _

Jongin gazes down at the blurry image of dozens of cuts on his thighs.

_ “No.” _

He felt his wrist burn.

  
  


_________________________________

  
  
  


“Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

The noise is irritating. The sweat on his body, the ache in his limbs, everything is irritating. Dancing was a nuisance to him nowadays. He felt nothing but discomfort in every step, every move.

Sure, he had started out thinking dancing was his life, but now he would do anything to not dance. But as the fan chants get louder, Jongin has no choice but to bite back his thoughts.

  
  
  
  


"You did good today Jongin," his manager compliments stoically.

Jongin offers him a tight smile, void of emotion.

"I wanna sleep," somewhere in the room, Baekhyun could be heard. 

Ever since Jongin took the therapy sessions, the members has been looking more relaxed lately.

Maybe they thought Jongin's occasional outbursts and frequent drinking would end because of it, but oh Jongin doesn't plan to stop.

"We're going to fly to Jakarta first thing in the morning," Junmyeon announces. "So get lots of rest tonight, yea?"

"Fuck me," Chanyeol groans.

“You wish,” Jongdae laughs, teasing the younger.

Jongin scowls slightly at Chanyeol’s direction. They hadn’t made up yet. The rapper was ignoring Jongin’s existence entirely. Jongin can’t blame him though, it was his fault. Jongin knows he should apologise but his pride doesn’t allow him to.

On the other hand, Jongin was ignoring Sehun, who glances at Jongin sheepishly every now and then.

What a perfect circle, Jongin thought to himself grimly.

Now, all Jongin wanted was to ignore all his members and get over with their schedules.

“Car’s here, get a move on,” Kyungsoo announces as he pops into their waiting room.

  
  
  
  
  


“Here, eat this if you want that headache to disappear,” Junmyeon passes something that looked like a vitamin to the groaning man. 

Jongin had somehow found himself squished in between Junmyeon and Baekhyun in the middle of choosing which car to sit in. He didn’t really want to enter this car, but when he saw Chanyeol and Sehun get in the same vehicle, Jongin had made a bee line down to this car in order to avoid the two.

He did not want to be alone with the duo, but he slowly regrets his decision as Baekhyun and Junmyeon exchanges terrible jokes and puns. He wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Jongin was exhausted, sweaty, his shirt was too tight and he feels suffocated by the sheer fact that he was sitting in the  _ middle _ of the backseat.

His jeans were making him silently hiss in pain, the tightness rubbing against his fresh cuts every now and then.

Ever since the fight went down with Chanyeol, The slashes on his thighs doubled in number for some reason. For some reason.

“Jongin?”

In the midst of self wallowing at himself for being put in this situation, his head snaps to Junmyeon, who looked at the younger with curious eyes.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been mumbling the entire time,” right. Jongin forgot to mention that he had developed a terrible habit of mumbling, unable to keep his thoughts to himself nowadays.

True enough, even Baekhyun looked up at him.

“I’m aight,” Jongin gave a lopsided smile at the leader, playing it off as sleepiness.

The two seemed to buy it as they pull up in the driveway of their dorm.

————————————————

  
  


Jongin’s mother’s sobs pierce through his cold heart.

He holds the black umbrella silently above her head to shed her from the rain, not caring for the drops littering his entire left side.

Dressed in perfect black, Jongin stares at the grave in an expression so somber, you would think he was a statue.

Jungah kneels beside the beautifully decorated grave- thanks to Jongin- and places yet another bouquet of flowers on it. Next to her was Raeon, who held a small umbrella up for him and his little sister. The two children stared up at the mourning adults that were littered around the gravestone.

Jongin scowled in disdain. His sister shouldn’t have brought the kids here. He made a mental note to tell his sister off later, but for now, all he can do is lament himself.

“He’s not crying,” he hears whispers from beside him. Standing in front of the grave, he noticed, was his aunt. His father’s sister, speaking to another person he presumed was a distant relative. 

“Think they had quarrels?” The other girl replied, not bothering to whisper.

Jongin grips the umbrella tighter. His mom paid him no mind as she sobs hard into her hands. Jongin purses his lips. He wanted so badly to hug his mother, but he knew he would get slapped and he didn’t need to give the two ladies standing beside them any more reason to gossip. Especially in front of his own father's grave.

Now that Jongin’s noticed, most people behind him were shuffling awkwardly behind him. 

_ “They don’t seem like mother and son, they’re so distant.” _

_ “Is that Junggi’s son?” _

_ “Kai from exo.” _

_ “He’s rich, he must be rude.” _

_ “No wonder he’s not crying.” _

_ “Rich people are all like that.” _

_ “Leave him be.” _

_ “I feel like slapping him.” _

_ “His dad just died!” _

_ “How can he not cry?” _

_ “It’s so rude.” _

_ “Rich people really don’t care about anything besides their money.” _

_ “Rich people.” _

_ “Exo’s Jongin. Rich dude.” _

_ “Rich people.” _

_ “Bet he only sent money to his parents.” _

_ “Money changed him.” _

_ “Rich people.” _

_ “He doesn’t care.” _

_ “He has money, why should he care for his parents.” _

_ “He doesn’t care.” _

_ “Rich people.” _

_ “He doesn’t love his dad.” _

_ “Rich people.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“We need to talk.”

Jongin shuts his eyes and clenches his two fists on his lap together. Seated in the waiting room of the cremation center, Jongin’s family was waiting silently to collect the legal documents of his father's death.

“Talk about what?” His mother takes a seat beside him, on the same blue plastic chair.

“Us. Myself. Yourself,” she sighs as she shifts at her seat. “I know I haven’t been all that reasonable recently. Or a good mother for that matter,” she stares up at Jongin’s huge stature with her wrinkly eyes. Those eyes which held Jongin’s world. “I’m sorry. How have you’ve been?”

Jongin purses his lips. This can’t be all that easy for his mother. Like Jongin, she was prideful. Stubborn and prideful. He and his mother doesn't like talking about feelings and emotional details. It must have taken a lot out of her to be sitting beside him right now.

“I’m fine,” Jongin says nothing else. He knows he should continue. He knows he should apologise as well. But he doesn’t want to.

His mother looks up at him expectantly, but sighs as Jongin doesn’t elaborate. Why hadn’t he called back in 9 months? How could he leave his own parents hanging like that? Jongin knows this is what his mother was thinking in the moment. He knew parents had a thing where seeing their children were enough for them, and yet Jongin could barely fulfill that.

His mother sighs again, louder this time. “Never mind, I knew this wouldn’t work,” she stands up and walks away quietly from Jongin’s peripheral.

Jongin makes no sound and no indication of moving. His mind was blank, body numb.

He was drowning.

—————————————————

Jongin gulps down the liquid poison, it's substance leaving a harsh burn in his throat.

He feels the incessant vibration in his pocket, probably Shinye. He hasn't been going for his therapy sessions for the past few weeks. He had used his mourning as an excuse to not go, but the lady had probably put two and two together to be calling him this much.

Looking down at the auburn bar, music flushed in his ringing head. He looks back at the dance floor. Horny teenagers and lonely adults litter the neon floor padding. His head rings as he sees people grinding against each other in silent moans and gasps.

Taking another shot of vodka, Jongin stands up to join the pool of sin. Finding his way to the cute girl he was staring at earlier, he puts his palms against her hips.

"Hey," Jongin whispers.

The blonde turns around and gaped at Jongin for a moment. She attempts to giggle cutely but Jongin just found it creepy. Didn't matter though, she's hot.

"Hi," she bats her eyelashes at Jongin seductively.

"What's your name, beautiful?" Jongin brings his hands lower, touching the top of her butt.

His phone rings again, the sound could barely be heard from the loud music.

"Hee-rin, and you?"

"That won't matter in a few minutes," Jongin smiles.

Hee-rin smiles back but soon her face falls as Jongin felt a tap on his back, followed by the stinging bite of a punch.

  
  
  
  


Jongin gets dragged out and thrown into the bags of trash that littered the sidewalk outside the club. 

He felt blood trickling down his face as he felt multiple blows to his leg and stomach. 

"And don't ever fucking touch my woman again!" Jongin's assailant shouts.

He hears shuffling from the club and the apparent couple screaming at each other through the ringing of his ears.

Jongin could guess the two were leaving together as their arguments became softer and further away.

Jongin squints at the crowd forming around him through his hurting left eye. He sees someone attempting to call an ambulance and dismisses them by waving his arm nonchalantly and a small, "it's fine."

Looks like he was going to sleep in the trash for the night. Not that he didn't deserve it.

_________________________________

  
  


He hates himself.  _ I hate myself. _

For what reason, he didn’t know. He just hated himself. 

The room in his heart had been left empty and undusted for god knows how long. It wasn't fun. 

He stares at a disappointed Shinye through his lashes, as he sat comfortably on the red couch.

“So your friends had to force you to come here?” She asks judgingly.

Jongin shrugs. “Bribed,” Jongin mouths. Junmyeon had told him if he went for this session, Jongin wouldn’t have to join dance practice for the week, and that was a deal Jongin was willing to take.

Shinye sighs. “So that means this is the only time we’ll be seeing for a few weeks, is that it?”

Jongin pops his lips. “Kinda?”

“Jongin I am very disappointed in you,” Shinye crosses her arms.

Jongin nostrils flared. “You don’t say,” he chuckles deeply.

“Jongin, if you don’t open up to me, I can’t help you, these  _ sessions  _ won’t help you,” she looks at him meaningfully. “Why do you even come here if you’re just gonna waste your time?” She whispers.

Jongin throws his hands up. “I don’t fucking know,” he giggles.

“Jongin-”

“Enough!” Jongin’s scream startles Shinye. “Jongin this, Jongin that! I’ve had enough!” He huffs.

Shinye is taken aback for a moment but she takes advantage of the moment. “Do you want to elaborate on that?” She asks softly.

Jongin breathes. “I… I don’t,” he looks down.

Shinye nods with understanding. “Okay. Thank you for today, Jongin. You’re finally opening up.”

_________________________________

  
  


Jongin didn’t want to open up. He wanted to wait until he breaks. He wanted to be the emo boy that he’s been the past few years. He didn’t want to change. 

He deserved the pain, the torture.

Call him a masochist, he may be. But with all that he’s done, Jongin couldn’t think of happiness anymore. He didn’t want to.

Maybe it was the world that made him like this, maybe it was himself, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore. 

Jongin brings the blade closer to his thighs. He sat atop the sink counter of his bathroom. The grey, gold and black decoration of his toilet was mockery to Jongin. The extravagant purchases and thoughts of living like a king was laughable with the way he was living now.

The familiar burning sensation is a gift like none other as liquid trickles down his thighs. 

He shuts his eyes as he takes in every prickly jab, every shock of pain. With an empty feeling in his gut, Jongin stands. Blood pools under his feet, leaving small blood patches of footprints. Jongin has no motivation to clean it up, and throws the blade in the bin.

It’s fine though. After he showers, he’ll clean it up. He always does. Always.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Jongin.”

Jongin turns to see his somewhat horrified members. All eight of them, yes Yixing included, hovered over Jongin, as if they had a discussion about the younger.

“Y-yes?” Damn, Jongin just wanted to eat his cornflakes in peace.

“Are you cutting yourself?” Kyungsoo asks, wide-eyed.

All the blood drains from Jongin’s face, his heart dropping a thousand miles under.

“No,” he gulps.

“Sehun found this in the trash this morning… it cut open a hole in the plastic bags and fell through it,” Baekhyun holds up what seems to be a razor with dried blood on it.

Now, Jongin starts panicking. “B-but I don’t cut myself,” he laughs. “See?” He holds up both his wrists. “Are you sure it isn’t any other members?”

“Your thighs.”

Jongin looks at Chanyeol. He was still mad at him.

“What?”

“Show your thighs. The other members did.”

Jongin kept mum as he stared at the floor.

“Shit, Jongin,” Jongdae sounds.

Junmyeon kneels under Jongin, cupping his hand in a warm manner. “Jongin.. You need help. I’m not kidding this time.”

Jongin grits his teeth. “Stop,” he whispers, so soft that no one hears him.

The members start crowding around him, talking about changing to a different therapist, other than Shinye. Some start talking about their friends or cousins that had depression and shit.

“Stop,” he says, more louder now.

No one hears as they discuss among themselves on how to help  _ him _ .

“Stop,” Junmyeon looks at him now. “Stop! Stop!  _ Stop! _ ”

The group freezes to look at him.

Plip, plip. Warmth spread through his cheeks. Water. Salt. Water. His eyes.

God knew how long since Jongin last cried. 

He sucked in his breath. “ _ I’m sorry.” _

He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he had an inkling.

_________________________________

“You’re fine,” he whispered. “I’m not going to milk you on details anymore, but I need to make sure you’re fine.”

Junmyeon passed Jongin a cup of tea, Jongin staring blankly into the red-brown liquid. Everyone sat on the couch, all their eyes plastered onto Jongin’s being, as if afraid, if they blinked once, he may disappear.

“We need you to talk,” Chanyeol sighs. “I’ll go first. I’m sorry. For hitting you, I know you know it’s your fault-”

Kyungsoo sides eye him.

“-I shouldn’t have punched you, that’s all I’m saying!” Chanyeol puts both his hands up at the others.

Jongin doesn’t reply, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move. His feet felt like plungers on the wooden floor of their dorm. His body was cement drooling down whatever support he had of himself anymore.

“What would it take…” All eyes set on Sehun. “...For you to go back to normal?” Oh, Sehun. How Jongin wished he had the will to go up and hug the poor dude.

“I don’t know,” Jongin said so softly, afraid that he would cry again, it was nearly muffled by the air conditioning of their living room. “I’m not so sure of anything anymore.”

The members kept mum at the defeated looking Jongin, not knowing what to say.

'We'll be here for you', 'It's gonna be okay'. They knew no words were going to help him.

Jongin knew nothing could help him.

"How did it start?" Baekhyun broke the silence.

Swallowing his own voice, Jongin said nothing. He tried to stand up, but tripped over his own heel as his eyes were too blurry to see. The members got up to hold him, but Jongin swatted their hands away with a glare. He pleaded and pleaded for forgiveness. Sorry for what, he didn’t know.

He didn't mean to cause his beloved friends any worry. He hadn't wanted to make them walk with eggshells around him.

He just wanted his friends back, he wanted to feel loved again. It's ironic considering the amount of supporters he has, but could never feel warmth anywhere he went. Which was why he shut out so many good people, his mom, his family, his members- himself.

Jongin shut himself out.

The last thing Jongin remembers is him screaming, completely in hysteria, then nothing but black.

_________________________________

“Why, why?!” Baekhyun pulled at his hair, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Minseok sighed. Unusual for him, he stared at the full cup of coffee in his hand. He would’ve already finished a cup of the brown liquid by now, but he was in no mood.

Yixing looked at the elder with worried eyes, but said nothing, more worried at Jongin who had a panic attack just moments ago.

“His dad just passed away, maybe that’s why,” Kyungsoo softly said, hoping to calm the agitated members. “Anyone would be distraught.”

“But this has been going on since way before then!” Baekhyun stops pacing to look at Kyungsoo.

“What do you mean ‘this’?” Chanyeol squinted at the smaller male, perplexed.

“Please,” Baekhyun scoffed. He turned his head to look at every single one of the members. Yixing, Minseok, and Sehun sitting on the couch next to each other. Kyungsoo who sat on the recliner, Chanyeol standing next to Kyungsoo and Junmyeon who was walking down the corridor with Jongdae after staying back in Jongin’s room to look after him. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed the way he’s been acting these past few months.”

“Care to share?” Yixing raises his arm.

“The fact that he’s been avoiding practices? The fact that he’s been botching his dances? The fact that he’s been going out to drink more often? The fact that he’s been acting like a complete jackass to all of us?” Baekhyun’s spit flies out at how fast he's talking, but no one comments on it. “You can’t chalk all those things up on ‘bad days’ or ‘bad moods’, if you do you're fucking blind.”

All the members nod along, now realising how serious the situation was. They thought if Jongin was sent to therapy everything would be fine. Turns out, their fellow bandmate was in more trouble than they thought. Chanyeol, on the other hand, looks completely dumbfounded.

“So what can we do now?” Kyungsoo asks.

Baekhyun shuts his mouth at that.

He didn’t know.

______________________

  
  


_ I am happy. I was happy. It wasn’t anything bad. I just thought they might‘ve cared. _

_ I saw a rope. A rope that was being pulled at its end. _

_ It was a considerably thick rope. But bit by bit, it tore. _

_ “Jongin, could you lend us some cash for a bit? We’ll pay you back, promise.” _

_ “Jongin, you see- we’re a bit tight on cash so-” _

_ “Look man, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the party. Y’know there were just too many people, and you slipped my mind. I’m sorry.” _

_ Bit by bit, it tore.  _

_ “You want dinner? I’m not available now, bro, sorry.” _

_ “Hi, Jongin, about that dinner- I can make some time now.” _

_ “Long time no see! Ah, so my girlfriend’s kinda pissed at me and I want to buy her a gift, could I borrow a few bucks?” _

_ “Thanks man, so where do you want to eat?” _

_ Somewhere along the lines, the rope snapped. _

_ It snapped every time. _

  
  
  
  
  


Jongin blinked his eyes open, sunlight flooding his bedroom. The blinds at his window created shadows that were casted upon his bedsheets. Jongin didn’t dare get up, knowing he would merely be hit by a wave of uncomfort. The soreness of his eyes made Jongin conclude that.

How long has it been, he wonders. Since he’s dreamt of something. Jongin scoffs. Nightmare, he corrected.

Jongin never liked getting out of bed nowadays. The feeling of being able to waste away in comfort was something Jongin had always wished upon himself. Not having to think about responsabilites. Not having to go through the same copious amounts of disappointment every day.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe his members were right, and that he should go to therapy. But deep down, Jongin knew. He knew that he didn’t need a psychiatrist, or any sort of mental health institute. He just wanted support.

A friend. Someone.

He’d been so disappointed by everyone around him that he ended up pushing away the people that he needed the most. Because of what, pride? Fame?

Jongin wants,  _ needs _ , someone to tell him that it’s not too late. Not too late to make amends and fix things. But after what he pulled last night, he’s sure that no one will ever look at Jongin the same ever again.

And once again, he’s disappointed. Not at others, anymore. He’s disappointed in himself. Somewhere along the hurt, Jongin had realised that it was by his own two hands he was pulling the rope.

Sometimes he curses life for putting him into such a position. That, he himself is the one to be blamed.

“Jongin?” Sehun knocks on the door. 

Jongin doesn’t react. He doesn’t even look at him.

“Jongin, I know you’re mad at me…” Sehun trails off to purse his lips. “I know I shouldn’t have told them... but they would’ve found it out anyways” Jongin furrows his eyebrows. “Ah! No, that’s not what I meant.” Sehun knocks his head. “It wasn’t my place to tell them, I am so, so sorry.”

Jongin stares up at the white ceiling, void of all emotions. Sehun inches closer towards the elder.

“I just-”

Jongin whispers.

“W-what?” Sehun stops in place, just a mere meter away from the bed.

“Do you know what it’s like?” Jongin says so softly that Sehun had to strain himself to hear him.

“Know what?” 

“To be objectified so much that you start to question your actual worth,” Jongin shuts his eyes. A tear rolled down the side of his resting face. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jongin,” Sehun manages to stutter out.

“How could you?” Jongin sits up, startling Sehun.

Through the door, Chanyeol and Baekhyun enter, Kyungsoo following behind with a mug in his hand.

Jongin sobs. “How could you?! Tell me, how could  _ anyone  _ understand me?!”

The members gape at the shouting Jongin. Chanyeol walks back out the door to get Junmyeon to mediate the situation.

“We can’t unless you  _ talk _ to us, Jongin.” Jongin stands up, stomping his way to the younger.

“How the  _ fuck _ am I supposed to trust  _ any  _ of you after the shit you pulled about  _ my  _ dad?!” Sehun shuts his mouth, tears forming at his eyes.

“I’m so-”

“Yeah, you’re fucking sorry,” Jongin huffs, face red. Junmyeon, followed by a worried Minseok and Yixing enters the room. “Do you know what it feels like to be disappointed over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over,  _ and over, and over, and OVER AGAIN?!” _ Veins form around Jongin’s bronze neck and forehead.

Jongin’s eyes pan over to the rest of the group who just stood by the door.

“You wanna see my fucking thighs?” Jongin pushes Sehun out of his way, and the younger plunges into the nightstand with a yelp of pain. The bronze man paid no mind to him as he stops in front of the rest and practically rips his pants off of him.

The members gasped and gaped in fear as Jongin uncaringly kicked his sweatpants off, leaving him clad in nothing but boxers. From behind, Minseok falls to the ground, filled with shock and a Yixing holding the elder up by one hand.

The inner part of Jongin’s thighs were covered in scars and cuts. Some were bright red, while others were brown and discoloured. It almost covered his whole thigh if it weren't for some healing ones. Jongin sniffles.

“I can’t be helped. I don’t want help,” Jongin angrily rubs at his red eyes. “Not anymore, so just go away.”

"Jongin," Baekhyun reaches out, in a small voice.

"No. I don't want to talk," he looks down at his pants which were pooled at his ankles, cheeks reddening as he had realized what he had done.

A fucking nutjob he was, going nearly commando in front of his bandmates.

Chanyeol, who was calling all the members, enters the room, and sees the spectacle in front of him. However the first thing his eyes landed on wasn't Jongin or his thighs.

Pushing a fallen Minseok and Baekhyun out of the way, he ran past Jongin with a worried jolt.

"Sehun?!" Chanyeol crouches down to lift up the fallen youngest, who was sprawled out on the floor.

Everyone gaped, they were so fixated on Jongin's scars that they hadn't realized that Sehun still hadn't gotten up from falling earlier.

"What the fuck, what the fuck," Junmyeon, who never swore, chanted. The members gathered around him, while Jongin stayed in place, shaking. “Sehun, wake up,” he didn’t budge.

Yixing went up to Jongin and grabbed him by his scruff. "Jongin calm down, it's not your fault, you were in a headspace-"

"I fucking pushed him," Jongin brings his hand to his mouth, sobbing. He never cried much but the past few days were a shitstorm he never wanted. " _ I  _ pushed… him."

"It was an accidde-"

"He's fucking bleeding!" Chanyeol announces. He had found a patch of blood in Sehun's hair.. "Fucking call an ambulance! Anyone! Jesus fucking christ!"

Jongin was suffocating.

_________________________________

  
  


Jongin had his hands on his face, tears running down from the crevices of his palms. He hadn’t meant to. It was a spur of the moment.

“Jongin,” he could hear Junmyeon shift beside him. “I called Shinye, she’s going to pick you up, is that fine with you.”

Jongin’s head shot up, eyes wide. “W-why?” He croaked out.

Yixing bent down in front of the seated Jongin, petting his head. “We know you need taking care of right now, but we need to focus on Sehun right now,” he looks up sadly. “Please understand, once we know Sehun’s okay, we have all the time in the world for you, Jongin.”

Jongin shakes his head and sniffles. “P-please don’t leave me alone,” he shuts his eyes causing a tear to fall, Yixing bringing his hand to cup Jongin’s cheek. Baekhyun and Chanyeol stood at the side of the hospital bench, looking at Jongin with pity. “I- I know I’ve been stubborn and that this is all my fault-” a hushed whisper of ‘its not’ from Baekhyun cuts Jongin off. “But p-please don’t leave me alone.”

  
  


Chanyeol doesn’t say anything but places his palm on top of Jongin’s head, keeping it there.

“Jongin we just need you-”

“Are you Oh Sehun’s contacts?” A man in a white garment approached them, holding a clipboard in one hand. Junmyeon nodded. “Hi, I am Dr. Jung,” he stretched out his palm, the one that wasn’t wearing a rubber glove, to which Junmyeon accepted.

“How is he?”

Dr. Jung clicked his tongue. “Life-wise, he is fine.”

Baekhyun sighed loudly in relief. “Thank god,” Junmyeon smiled so big. “we tried everything to wake him up, and he wouldn’t come to, so we assumed the worst.” 

“That is understandable,” Dr. Jung said. “But there is something I must inform you of first.”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows knit in worry.

“When it comes to the brain, tests can be very subjective and it may vary from it’s actual result,” Dr. Jung continues. “There is no saying he will not be affected by this.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Though the blood patch is small, the internal damage caused to the brain can be lethal. This will definitely not result in a concussion but something more worse.” Dr. Jung swallows down hard, pity flooding his eyes. “Our CAT scan shows a probability of paralysis.”

Jongin’s eyes widen, blood rushes to his head. The silence in the hallway was almost deafening if it weren’t for the sound of his heartbeat, running miles an hour.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Chanyeol almost whispers. “You can fix it, r-right?”

Dr. Jung doesn’t say anything aside from words of preparation and comfort, a form of bullshit Chanyeol hated. “Paralysis takes years to recover from, with therapy and move-”

“Don’t fucking give me that!” He stomps to the doctor, grabbing his garment. “You can fix him right?! He’s a fucking dancer- a performer! He- he  _ can’t _ \- he can’t  _ not _ move!” Chanyeol all but screams profanities at the doctor. Jongin heard nothing but ringing.

Jongdae and Kyungsoo held the bigger male back but to no avail. It wasn’t until security came in to pry Chanyeol off the poor man. However, it didn’t stop there. Chanyeol was thrashing and shouting, Jongdae and Kyungsoo effectively pulling him back. Yixing and Junmyeon silently stood there, watching, devoid of life. Baekhyun did nothing but cry softly at the side and Minseok was nowhere to be seen.

Jongin brought both his knees up and sobbed with his hung down.

_________________________________

“It will be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” Jongin looked at his hands, clammed together as if a prayer would save him now. “It will never be the same again.”

“Jongin, we have to look at this as some form of change,” Shinye leans back on the seat of the car, unmoving.

“I don’t need a change! I want-” Jongin pants. “I want…”

“Then what do you want? What do you need?” she gazes at him. The parking lot was bright enough to see her facial expression and Jongin knew it was anything but pity.

“I want…”

______________________________

  
  


Jongin shuts the door, head pining for his bed. He didn’t remove his shoes, he did nothing to get himself to comfort as he planted his body atop his white sheets.

Popping the container he dumps in it’s contents into his mouth.  _ Just this once _ , he thinks.  _ Just this once let me sleep happily. _

His head, steadily being filled with lightness, craved more.

_ Just once,  _ he thinks.  _ Just once let me get rid of my pain. _

In his mind he sees the ocean. Brutal and unforgiving. On the surface it may seem rowdy, rough, even dangerous. If he put his head in it, maybe the sounds won’t be as loud anymore. If he dipped himself into it, it wouldn’t seem as scary anymore. His body would be untraceable, lost to the sea. No one would ever see him cry, he would never be a nuisance to anyone.

A growing sensation dwells in Jongin. The thought of bringing himself to the pit of darkness enlightened him. Maybe Sehun wouldn’t feel as sad anymore. Maybe Chanyeol wouldn’t have to feel as angry anymore. Maybe Junmyeon wouldn’t be as disappointed. 

Maybe his mom and his sister would finally be happy he was talking to his father. 

The thought of people being satisfied with him brought a smile to his face. It felt foreign but it was comfortable.

_ Just once, _ he thinks,  _ let me do the right thing. _

____________________________________

Sehun lifts his heavy eyelids. The ceiling is painted white, from the lack of lighting he could tell it was night. From the beeps coming next to him, Sehun realized he’s in a hospital. Sensing a presence to his left, he attempted to move his head. With a few cracks here and there, he sees the mop that Jongin calls hair.

Smiling, Sehun wanted to bring his arm to run through the oily strands. But he felt… numb. Dismissing it as a side effect of drugs of some kind, Sehun grunts trying to lift up any part of his body, despite the thumping in his head.

Jongin soon stirs and blinks his eyes open. When he notices an awake Sehun, he practically sprang up to life.

“Sehun, oh my god, are you okay?!” He looks around the room seeing if there’s anything important he’s missing when a person wakes up from a coma.

Sehun laughs. “No Jongin, I’m fine.”

“R-really?” Jongin sits down, hand to his heart. “Thank god.”

Sehun smiles. “How long have I been out?”

Jongin blinks at him, trying to recall it. “Um, three days?”

Sehun’s eyes widened. He had expected to be a few hours, not days. “Oh.”

“Sehun, I am so so  _ so _ sorry,” tears accumulate in Jongin’s eye duct, sincereness dripping from his voice. “I’m-”

“It’s fine,” Sehun cuts off quickly. He had just remembered what had gotten him into this mess. Jongin pushing him into the bed drawer, how scared he was. 

“No, it’s not,” Jongin sniffles. “They said-... they said you might..” Sehun cocks his head sideways. “You might… have permanent paralysis.”

Suddenly all the weight crashes on Sehun. His eyes widen and he realises why he can’t move his limbs. Mouth agape, he didn’t know what to say.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Jongin sobs.

Sehun doesn’t say anything but stares into the duvet where his hands remain still and lifeless.

“It’s… fine.”

_____________________________________

  
  


Jongin shuts the door, slipping his shoes and socks off slowly. The mahogany of his room invades his nose with a sharp sting.

A static force was against him. Every step, every touch of his toes to the ground, they resonate through the messy room.

Torn sweaters from nights he can’t remember, the bottles of liquor he’d never bothered to pick up. Jongin wills himself to amass them, holding them between his armpits and in his hand. He threw away the unnecessary garbage, hung up his clothes properly, folding his pants and shirts, throwing dirty underwear into the hamper.

He’d brought a rag along with a pail filled with water and soap. Wetting the cloth, he dragged it across the floor. Scrubbing it along the oak floor, polishing it over and over again, every nook and cranny.

No matter how shiny it was, to the point where he could practically see his reflection on the floor, Jongin continued scouring the abused ground. The more polished it was, the harder Jongin scrubbed. 

His knuckles turned red, his fingers became wrinkly and chapped. He scrubbed and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed. He scrubbed until his nails bled through, until his wrist throbbed. Nothing was cleaned.

Even when tears fell from his eyes and sobs ran through his mouth, he didn’t stop. He didn’t dare to stop. Jongin’s vision has been long blurred, unable to see anything but the dirt under his hands. It was a stubborn dirt, not coming off the floor and it annoyed him to no end.

Hide under a rock, it says. Stop existing, it says. It’s not going to get any better anymore, it says. You’ll live in shame everyday anyways, it says. You won’t come back from it now, it says.

One step is all it takes, it says.

One step. One step and it’ll be over. 

Jongin screams, weeping. His face red, snot spilling over from his nose. His whimpers resonate through the ash walls and pierces his own ears.

Jongin looks to his desk, the one he hardly uses. Dragging his feet to it, he pulled every part of his heavy muscles.

Paper and pen, it says.

_________________________________

  
  


“And this,” Jongin tenses his arms on the wheelchairs’ handles, pushing Sehun up the yellow ramp. “Is how you get up.”

“Woah,” Sehun’s eyes widened. He gapes at the bars and knobs of his height that were set up at the entrance of their dormitory.

“Woah is an understatement,” Junmyeon flashes his friend a tired, but happy smile. “Jongin set all these up by himself through the entire house,” he slaps the lowly adjusted bars. 

Chanyeol nods. “All the stairs have ramps!” He exclaims excitedly, running up said ramp like a child.

Sehun giggles. “That’s mine, Yeol,” he fake pouts.

“We  _ share.” _

Jongin smiles contentedly, happy Sehun liked it.

“We won’t be needing them soon though,” Kyungsoo puts the 11 McDonald’s paper bags on the counter.

Baekhyun shouts unnecessarily when Yixing takes a fry from the carton of french fries, with Minseok slapping his arm rather harshly in faux annoyance, Jongdae laughing.

Sehun smiles brightly. “Look, I can move my arms!”

Junmyeon nods. “Give it a few more months and you’ll be able to move your legs, too.”

Everyone gathered around Sehun, teaching him to propel himself upwards the yellow ramps and with the equally yellow bars. Jongin smiled when Sehun’s eyes met his.

“Thank you,” Sehun throws a gummy grin at the elder.

Jongin’s smile becomes wider, but doesn’t reach his ears.

“Happy birthday, Sehun,” Jongin leans down to kiss the younger’s forehead.

The members stare at the two fondly. Junmyeon’s eyes glisten with tears. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be alright after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Shutting the door to the toilet and locking it, Jongin throws the plastic bag carelessly on the marble sink. He turns the tap to the bath tub open. 

Jongin stares stoically at the rising water, pulling off his hoodie and stepping out of his sweatpants. The wounds on his thighs all have seemed to have closed up, since he didn’t cut in almost a month. He didn’t see the need to.

Once the scorching hot water reached the brim of the tub, Jongin turned the tap off.

Jongin picks up the plastic bag, pouring out its contents. 

Two orange bottles.

Not giving a single care in the world, he unscrews the white caps in one motion.

He peers up at his reflection in the mirror. His eyebags sagged, face wrinkly and not taken care of. He pans over to the two bottles in his hands.

He brings them up, tilting it over his open mouth.

Jongin wonders if he could’ve done anything different. The choices he’s made weren’t ever smart. Neither was this. If he could redo his days. He would’ve.

Yet the pills managed to find their way past his lips and into his throat. The ones that didn’t make it in fell on the floor dramatically with a small clink. Jongin discards the now empty bottles with a slip of his hands. 

Jongin dips himself into the water, sitting in the tub.

The liquid reaches his neck as he looks upwards, resting his head at the protruding part of the tub as he awaits the effects of the drugs to kick in.

Soon, his world turns hazy. His senses are heightened and all the colours he saw became vivid.

“What the fuck is this?!” Jongin could barely make out muffled shouts by his members.

Ah, he’s made them angry again.

Jongin slowly submerges himself into the water, as his back slips down the slope.

“I got a letter, too,” Baekhyun’s voice is loud along with some other sounds.

Jongin couldn’t be bothered. 

“Where’s Jongin?!” There’s a pause in the screams before the bathroom door is rapped on.

“Jongin?! Jongin?!” 

The members horrified screams and the banging on the door made Jongin’s throbbing head worsen.

He couldn’t think anymore, his vision had long become white and it was a high Jongin didn’t want to come down from. He couldn’t feel his fingers, or the boiling hot water anymore. He was… numb.

Jongin was sleepy. Very sleepy.

The banging became louder yet everything was so muffled he doubted his ears.

Jongin then fell into the water completely.

In his own self pity, in retribution for his past mistakes. In the hopes that maybe he could’ve done things a little bit different. In his own misery, in that vast ocean he had always wished to live in, where sound was null and the ocean bed was filled with vivid colours and endless wonder,

He drowned.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. First of all I wanted to say thank you so much for reading this through. I first started writing this when I was in a really bad headspace. Actually, I only write this when I'm in a bad headspace. This book took me 6 months- maybe more than that- to write. I don't want to call it my artistry. Depression is not a joke, it isn't meant to be taken lightly. I use Exo as a group to placate my inner darker fears, by no means do I wish these horrible feelings upon them. I borrow their name, their looks, their personality. I do that for all my fics. Whatever I write does not reflect their thoughts whatsoever. 
> 
> If any ANY of you go through these horrid thoughts, do know that you can talk about it with anyone. Get help, seek therapy. You're not crazy, you don't deserve to be treated as if you're something you're not. You have to stay strong. Seek help. Talk to anyone you want to. You do not have to be afraid of what others think.
> 
> With that being said, I hope y'all enjoyed this. Or at the very least had a good time reading. This is my second book ever so do leave votes and comments, they really help show that people like something I've spent so long on. 
> 
> If not, check out my other work, Blood House! Stay safe in quarantine babies ily <3
> 
> Follow my twitter1!!1!11!!!!! @jokingly_funny  
> 


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